


High School and Four-Letter Words

by hrmdream



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:15:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27543712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hrmdream/pseuds/hrmdream
Summary: Another HS AU where Chloe describes the four-letter words she would use to summarize her four years of high school and comes to find they are influenced a lot by one Beca 'Effin' Mitchell.Besides language, everything before Senior Year is safe. Promise.
Relationships: Chloe Beale & Beca Mitchell, Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell
Comments: 21
Kudos: 139





	High School and Four-Letter Words

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rejection_isnt_failure](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rejection_isnt_failure/gifts).



> I was asked very nicely to try an enemies to lovers HS AU, and here we are. I'm not sure if I did it well, because I went a little rogue and tried a different formatting for my writing. This is where I apologize in case it was actually a horrible idea trying to squeeze in development of a complex relationship into four scenes (even if spread through four different years).
> 
> Also, this all started out on a sweet note, which is why I say everything up until Senior Year is clean. But SOMEBODY happened to post a one-shot that put me in a tailspin, and Senior Year went gutter-y. I think you know who you are.
> 
> Songs used to help me push through:  
> (Freshman Year) Play Fight - THEY, Tinashe  
> (Junior Year) Phases - PRETTYMUCH  
> (Senior Year) Forever Jack Laboz Remix - Disco Fries
> 
> Enjoy with the songs? Or not. Whatever.

If you were to ask Chloe Beale to describe each year of high school with a four-letter word (although, she isn’t sure why you feel so inclined to), she would give you an answer something like this: Freshman Year - Hate, Sophomore Year - Shit, Junior Year - Fuck, Senior Year - Love. 

See Chloe goes into high school very much with the same attitude as everyone else (she figures anyway). Her first few days of Freshman Year start off with a lot of excitement, nervousness, and an abundance of hope over the prospect of what the next four years will bring. As far as Chloe has heard, these are about to be the best four years of her life. Chloe is sure as hell going to make them ‘totes’ awesome and memorable. 

Nothing can affect her spirit for academic molding, forming lifelong friendships, and the discovery of career-defining passions. 

Nothing besides one awfully angry and gloomily dark Beca Mitchell (she eventually comes to find).

\---

_Freshman Year_

“This is just fucking great!” 

The comforting quiet of the library is rudely broken by an agitated Beca Mitchell, huffing and throwing her always black, sometimes chipped (Chloe’s noticed) nail-polished hands in the air. If Chloe was not seated at the table right next to the dark-haired girl, she would have found it easy to focus right back onto her Geometry textbook. 

They have only known each other for the better half of a year now, but it has been enough time for Chloe to know she would rather force her brain to learn how to properly calculate the area of a circle than pay any mind to what is bothering Beca _yet again_.

“Fucking fuckity fuckholes.” 

Chloe could give Beca credit in how she has a colorful way of articulating her irritation, but Beca is literally radiating waves of annoyance, and Chloe finds her quite distracting.

“Wow, Drama Queen. Cool it down a bit maybe? People are trying to study here.” Chloe grumbles. Eyes not leaving her textbook.

“Hey.” 

Though one word, Chloe recognizes the tone the word is spoken with. Again - she has dealt with months of Beca at this point. The girl is like an annoying gnat, continuously intruding on her space and something she wants to squash (despite her whole attitude against violence, Chloe wants to try, because Beca Mitchell is an exception for a lot of things Chloe believes in). So yeah, Chloe knows the steps to this dance of theirs. Even so, she decides to delay the inevitable. She grits her teeth; she wills her eyes to stay on the words in front of her.

“Psst.” 

Chloe tilts her head just a fraction - away from her distractor. 

“I know you hear me.” 

Chloe rolls her eyes. 

“Hey, you.” 

A crumpled piece of paper hits Chloe right in the forehead. It lands on the page Chloe has been attempting to make sense of for the past fifteen minutes. Her vision becomes tunneled; the ink of her Geometry notebook -not hidden beneath the rubbish used as a projectile- starts bleeding together until all she sees are random blurs of black. Hot air is pushed through Chloe’s flared nostrils; she turns to send the fiercest glare only Beca Mitchell can provoke out of her. When Chloe finds herself the recipient of one shit-eating, sarcastic-laced (how does Beca do that?) grin, she knows she has fallen right into the brunette’s palm.

“Sup, Sunshine. Mind your own business and shut the fuck up.”

Chloe scowls. “Why are you such an asshole?” 

Stormy blue eyes and the eyebrows that sit like finely-trimmed rain clouds above them widen and raise. Chloe wants to think Beca looks impressed with her, but she knows better. 

“Wow. Who knew that trap you call your mouth could formulate words unrelated to puppies and unicorns.”

“Jesus, Mitchell. What is your problem with me?” Chloe narrows her eyes and wills them to shoot lightning shocks. Her anger lost her the fight in ignoring Beca. The least she can do is win the intense eye-lock battle they are currently engaged in.

“Beale, there are no problems. With all my heart, I affectionately wish for you to eat shit and die.” Beca puckers her lips and tauntingly blows a kiss in Chloe’s direction. 

Chloe’s jaw drops. As she mentally tries to formulate a response, a textbook is slammed down on the table she’s seated at. Startled, Chloe’s attention snaps to the eyeglass-wearing librarian shooting both her and Beca warning daggers (she should take notes). 

“Ladies,” the librarian breathes in slowly. After collecting herself, the older woman eventually releases a long breath through her nose. “If I hear another inappropriate word come out from either of your mouths, I will send you both to detention. Is that understood?” 

Chloe grumbles her acknowledgement right along with Beca. With one final glare, Chloe goes back to god awful Geometry. Well, she does her best anyway. Her concentration continues to break every time Beca so much as huffs. Or shuffles. Or otherwise proves she is still alive and breathing. The despicable brunette also has an annoying habit of drumming her fingers on her desk, incessantly reminding Chloe she is there. And Chloe has not caught her in the act, but of the people seated nearby, Beca certainly seems to be the only one immature enough to kick Chloe’s chair every few minutes. 

Besides these little hankerings, though, the rest of the study period passes by without any more incidents. At least until the last few minutes. 

When Chloe finds herself having to wait behind Beca at the printer, she does her best to not vocalize her annoyance. Instead, with a long draw of air, she purses her lips together and releases her breath through her nose. 

Somehow that catches the brunette’s attention, because she glances over her shoulder. 

“Do you think you can breathe any louder?” Chloe hears Beca mutter beneath her breath. The redhead rolls her eyes and grits her teeth. If Beca was attempting to bait her, Chloe will show her she is better than that. She lets the comment go unresponded and simply crosses her arms.

As patient as she can, Chloe continues to stand there in silence. Whatever Beca is doing, she appears to be taking her sweet time. Chloe’s eyes have been able to take detailed notes of Beca’s backside - taking in everything from the brunette’s black boots, grey washed jeans, dark blue sweater to her chestnut-colored haired head. 

When there is a sudden bustle of people packing up, Chloe takes a glance at the clock. They are at the final minute of the period. 

“Can you please hurry up?” Chloe’s patience is thin, but the request is worded as nicely as she can manage.

“Can you please go jump off a cliff?”

Like a hawk on her prey, the librarian sweeps in beside them. “Ms. Beale. Ms. Mitchell. Detention.” 

Chloe groans and her hands splay at her sides. “Seriously? I didn’t even say anything.” 

“Yes, Ms. Beale. I did warn _both_ of you.” the librarian tuts and walks away.

“Oh my God! Finally!” Chloe cries in exasperation when Beca turns away from the printer; there is a stack of papers held in her petite hands. Out of curiosity, Chloe’s eyes dart to the paper at the top of Beca’s stack. She is downright shocked to see a black-and-white, full-page blown-up picture of Beca raising her middle finger and staring back at her with ‘Sucks to suck, Beale’ captioned beneath it.

“You have got to be kidding me.” Chloe looks up at the brunette who has the nerve to smirk and wink at her.

“See you in detention, Sunshine.” Beca snickers cruelly as she brushes by. 

_Bitch_

The tips of Chloe’s fingers are numb and her hands are tingling. She can feel her pulse in her palms. It takes all of Chloe’s willpower to not jump the girl right then and there. 

A lot of fucking willpower.

For the rest of Freshman Year, Chloe finds herself in detention a lot thanks to Beca ‘Fucking’ Mitchell (enough that she volunteers to plant trees that summer. She attempts to make it up to Mother Nature by replacing the sources of all the pieces of paper that get thrown at her by the ridiculously rude brunette during their time together in detained punishment). 

So with only a quarter of the way through high school and barely a dent into life, Chloe finds that her earlier enthusiasm and optimism for high school is going to be challenged by the loathing hate she has for the stupid ‘ear-monstrosity alt-girl’ - Aubrey’s description, not hers (Thank whatever-higher-power which sent her such an understanding best friend packaged in pink cardigans, primped blonde hair and colorfully manicured nails - things Chloe understands).

As much as Chloe wishes she were better than allowing said ‘alt-girl’ to taint her whole first year of high school, Chloe is not better. Because, yes, Freshman Year - Hate. Since this is the year she learns she is capable of harboring an incomparable hate for none other than Beca ‘Fucking’ Mitchell. It is also the year she regrettably discovers she is not as positive as she believed herself to be, because hate? Inside of her? Chloe really did not think that was possible.

\---

After a year of riding off something as strong as hate, Chloe willfully believes anything else is figuratively up. Looking back, she guesses Sophomore Year and its shit is an improvement to the constant disdain and hostility she has had to endure. Her second year of high school is less burning with rage and more scraped with annoyance. Chloe thinks that is better than anything.

_Sophomore Year_

“Dude. No. She cannot be serious right now.” Dark blue eyes are looking up at Chloe, and they and their owner are very unamused. 

“She is. I checked. Do you mind?” Chloe makes a motion towards the seat she has just been assigned to. The one currently being used as a foot rest for Beca's pair of combat boots.

While the brunette begrudgingly removes herself from Chloe’s seat, Chloe sighs. She would have taken any other lab partner. At this rate, likely-to-set-you-on-fire Lilly would be a blessing. 

Seat now vacant, Chloe places her textbook and binder on the desk as she slides behind the lab bench. Gathering herself together, she turns to the brunette seated beside her. “Look -” she starts and ignores the stir in her stomach when she is met with the swirling haze of what is most likely hatred in the eyes meeting her, “I know you hate me like you hate the rest of the world, but I really need a good grade in this class.” 

“I could care less what you need, Beale. Save your breath to talk about hair, nails and shopping with your perfect little girlfriends.” Beca waves her off dismissively.

The muscles in Chloe’s jaw tense. Of course Beca does not want to make this easy. “Please, Mitchell.” (God. Was that desperate begging she just heard in her own voice?) “I cannot be kicked off the cheerleading squad or the volleyball team.” 

“Oh. My. Gosh.” Beca’s voice raises a few octaves higher than her normal speaking tone; her face lights up with exaggerated peppiness. Chloe recognizes the brunette’s actions as a clear attempt at mocking her (she doesn’t talk like that, though. Right?). “Why?” the brunette deadpans. “Is the sky going to start falling?” she makes a show of crouching and darting her eyes in frantic alarm at the ceiling. 

“Seriously? Why do you have to be so goddamn difficult?” Chloe says with a huff.

Beca scoffs. “Seriously? Why does everything associated with you have to be so goddamn perfect?” the steel blue eyes that Chloe would find intriguing and captivating on anyone else narrow and bore into her. 

Something coils tightly in Chloe’s stomach. She shifts in her seat, squaring up against Beca to prepare to make some kind of retort. Anything really. But then Beca surprisingly thrusts herself forward. Quite suddenly there is barely a few inches separating Beca’s delicate-featured face from Chloe’s own. Chloe inhales a sharp breath. At this proximity, there is an intimidating quality to the brunette’s otherwise fair face. And those eyes are really piercing. She gulps.

“News flash, Beale. Real life isn’t perfect for everyone else like it is for you.” Something flashes behind the furiously swirling, pupil dilated eyes.

Chloe frowns. “My life isn’t perfect. I’ve never even once claimed it was.” 

“Maybe not,” Beca shrugs; she leans back. “But everything sure looks like a fucking breeze for you.”

“I’m not sure what gave you the impression my life is any different from most people’s, but I deal with problems just like the next person. I just choose to not act all gloom and doom.” 

Beca rolls her eyes. “Sure. Whatever, Sunshine.” 

Before Chloe can further correct Beca on her incorrect assessment of Chloe’s life or question why she keeps calling Chloe that damned nickname (or is it an insult? Chloe has no idea), Mrs. Rogers is instructing the class to gather the necessary equipment to begin lab. 

Chloe panics because she and Beca have completely missed the teacher’s walkthrough, and this is not the best way to start off getting a good grade in the class. By the time her anxiety subsides, Beca is already walking back to their bench apparently carrying everything they need.

“Let’s get this show on the road,” Beca grumbles. She places everything on the workbench and opens their lab workbook. A few beats pass and then she glances over at Chloe with an arched brow. “Are you going to read through the lab instructions with me, or do I have to do everything?” 

“Oh.” Chloe jumps out of her chair to stand and tentatively steps forward.

They are already so close, but Beca manages to lean in even more when she props an elbow onto the workbench and hunches over the book. She pretty much violates and breaches the sliver of neutral territory between them, but she is too busy tracing her slim finger under the instructions to apparently care. 

Chloe has to look over Beca’s shoulder to read anything, and she would complain, but “Huh,” Chloe murmurs when she catches a whiff of vanilla (very pleasant and sweet smelling vanilla). Her forehead crinkles and her mind goes for a spin. She is not sure what she thought Beca Mitchell should smell like, but vanilla is not the first thing that pops to mind when you associate said person to be the human equivalent of a ‘mini she-devil’ (another Aubrey Posen creation, ladies and gentleman).

When Beca is straightening out again, Chloe shakes herself out of the vanilla-charged daze.

“Are you good with taking notes while I combine the substances?”

“Uh. I am supposed to be taking note of types of reactions, right? So like color changes?”

Beca scowls. “Dude. Did you read before coming to class or were you too busy skipping through the prairie?” 

Chloe feels as though she should be angry. She feels like maybe she should defend herself, but instead she bites her lip, and her gaze lowers. She scrapes at the edge of the tabletop with her nails. “I re-read the chapter like three times. I’m just not good with this stuff,” Chloe admits, her voice lowered, her cheeks feverishly blushing, and her shoulders rising in a half-shrug. 

There is a brief silence between them until Chloe decides to glance up with a squint to her eyes. What she finds in Beca’s expression, she is not entirely sure. There is no grit to her teeth or narrowness to her eyes. If Beca is annoyed or otherwise displeased with Chloe’s disclosure, she does not show it. She stares , an almost fixed state on her face, as though her mind has just become resolute on something. “Ok. I’ll measure. You pour. We watch what happens and take notes together. Cool?”

Chloe is stunned, but the train on her mental tracks pushes forward and she nods. 

Beca starts measuring out what they need, and Chloe tilts her head and watches in silence. She observes how the brunette checks and double-checks everything as she does it - reading the workbook, grabbing what she should be measuring out, measuring. Nothing is done without Beca taking a second glance and sometimes with a tongue stuck between her teeth (for extra concentration? A light pinch of adorableness? What is happening right now?). 

Chloe tries to mimic Beca's air to care, but double-checking is unfortunately not what makes one good in Chemistry. When Chloe is about to pour what she thinks is Hydrogen Chloride (she double-checked), Beca is swooping in with a hand clasped over Chloe’s own. “Whoa, dude. Let’s not do that.” 

Chloe lets Beca ease the vial out of her hand and wordlessly replace it with another (the right one). Hand remaining on Chloe’s, she directs the redhead to “Now pour.” Still after they have successfully combined the correct substances into the test tube, Beca takes Chloe’s hand and presses it against the glass container. “Feel that?” 

Chloe’s eyes widen and she nods. “Ooh,” she coos. 

“Yeah. That is the heat of neutralization,” Beca hums before she steps back and fills in their lab sheet. “And this is the chemical equation for what we just made happen. Need me to break it down for you?”

For the rest of the year, their labs pretty much go like that. 

In place of what Chloe initially thought would be a lot of name-calling and accidental (or purposeful) injury is instead calm direction and gentle, but firm correction (all by Beca). The two of them strangely navigate their Chemistry labs impressively well - both parties walking away unharmed, and Chloe actually learning. By the end of the year, Chloe’s grade in Chemistry is a comfortable ‘A-’. Chloe knows she has Beca Mitchell to thank for it, and that realization is kind of a shit-eating moment. 

So, ok, Sophomore Year - Shit. Because discovering the girl she had declared her archenemy is actually a stickler for lab instructions, a copious notetaker, and an overall perfect lab partner does a number on Chloe (Also, Beca has a really soothing and relaxing voice when she is talking Chemistry - the fact that it is even a _thing_ for Chloe is something she is trying to wrap her mind around. Please just give her a second - especially if your name is Aubrey. Chloe cannot explain it to you right now, because she is still working it out herself, but _shit_ she thinks she doesn’t hate Beca Mitchell after all).

Oh, did Chloe also mention she leaves Sophomore Year with a distinct smell of vanilla stubbornly clinging to her senses?

Because she does.

And it is just shit really.

\---

At the start of Junior Year, Chloe is not exactly sure what she expected to change between her and Beca. Even if it should be nothing, she is truthfully surprised that their third year of knowing each other starts off feeling like they have regressed to Freshman Year dynamics. Something had to have dropped in Beca’s kool-aid over the summer, because Beca is tauntingly snarky, haughtily confident, and just generally more of everything Chloe has come to associate with her (also, has she always been this unfairly attractive?). 

Chloe really wishes the Beca-related changes stopped there, but Beca -or at least Beca’s friends- suddenly seem to always be _looking_ at Chloe. They are the most obnoxious when she and Beca share the same space, but Chloe would like to point out that she does not even know these people; she has never interacted with them before. Therefore, their whispers and giggles are all very weird and unwanted thank you very much.

Besides the _thing_ (she has no other words for it) with Beca and her friends, Chloe’s life pretty much turns upside down - the worst things that could possibly happen to her. So this brand-new, amped-up-on-another-degree Beca is the least of her concerns.

Within the single month of October, Chloe’s family dog, her favorite aunt, and her nana all pass away. It is scary, overwhelming, and the first time Chloe experiences true and utter heartbreak. But Chloe is a big girl. She knows about life and death. Not to say knowledge and awareness of a certain thing makes dealing with it any better, but well, Chloe _knows_. 

She _knows_ it is okay to cry. She _knows_ it is okay to be angry. She _knows_ it is okay to miss someone when they are gone. She _knows_ it is ok to not be ok. But you know what, people? All Chloe wants is for you all to please leave her the fuck alone. Stop looking at her all sad. Stop tiptoeing around her like she will break. Stop telling her you are there for her to talk to. Stop everything you are doing. _Please_. Just stop. 

There is a fire burning wildly in Chloe’s chest that is compelling her to act on impulse, lash with fury, and no matter the crying or the silence, the screaming or the anguish, with company or alone, nothing will douse it out. So everyone needs to stop.

(Spoiler alert: No one stops.)

By Winter Formal of Chloe’s third year in high school, Chloe is no longer a starter for her Volleyball team. She gets replaced in leading Cheerleading practices. Her grades are barely scraping by. And she has spent more time in detention than in regular class .

She can thank Beca ‘Fucking’ Mitchell for that last point.

Beca ‘Fucking’ Mitchell who keeps ratting her out and getting in the way of her trying to skip class. Beca ‘Fucking’ Mitchell who is suddenly on everyone’s side and telling Chloe to stop being a bitch (she is really one to talk). Beca ‘Fucking’ Mitchell who is not her mother, so why is it any of her business if Chloe tries some alcohol or smokes a cigarette. And Beca ‘Fucking’ Mitchell who is always at the ready, continuosly sparking unrelenting anger out of her and dishing it right back.

That Beca ‘Fucking’ Mitchell.

_Junior Year_

Snow is falling light flurries around Chloe. She closes her eyes and tilts her head back. The minute ice crystals land on her cheeks and mix with the wet salt trails of her recent tears. 

Chloe senses she should go inside - she’s only wearing a dress, and this weather is prime for catching a cold. Too bad she doesn’t care. 

The longer she continues to stay out here, the more Chloe is realizing she prefers it anyway - standing alone wrapped in the chill blanket of Winter. The still night air is mostly quiet beside the distant, dull thumps of the loud music playing inside the gymnasium. Altogether, Chloe is relaxed in this atmosphere. 

When she hears a _‘click’ _and the song currently playing in the gymnasium - now unobstructed - blasts through the open air, Chloe is not surprised. After another _‘click’_ , the music is once again muffled. Chloe hears a shuffle, and she breathes out a sigh. Her moment to herself has come to its end. With the way she had left the dance floor, visibly distraught and crying, she figures one of her friends has finally decided to follow her. __

____

“Hey.”

__

Chloe pauses. She was not expecting anyone in particular, but this is the last person she thought she would hear behind her. 

__

“It’s really none of my business -” 

__

“That’s right.” Chloe sniffles her last sniffle. “It’s not.” She wipes her face dry (she’ll be damned if she lets Beca ‘Fucking’ Mitchell see her tear-strewn face). 

__

“Chloe, I-” 

__

“Beca, seriously.” Chloe shakes her head and drops her chin. The past few months have been a ride. Chloe is tired. She cannot do this right now. Doesn’t even Beca ‘Fucking’ Mitchell have basic human decency to recognize that? “I do not need any of your shit. I have had one too many years of you just hating me, and me not having a single fucking clue as to why.” Chloe takes a deep breath. Her lungs fill with cold air. This is a nice change. Invigorating. Emboldening. “But you know what? I don’t care anymore. Everything is shit anyway. So you hate me? Cool. I get it. Now go.” 

__

“Dude. That’s not- I’m sorry if you think that’s why I’m here right now. But it’s not. Contrary to what you believe, I don’t hate you.” The exhale of air behind her sounds almost defeated. “Will you work with me here? I’m trying-” 

__

“Trying to what?” Chloe spins around. Her hands tightly clench at her sides. “Gloat in my face? Because for the first time ever, you are seeing that perfect Chloe Beale and her perfect life aren’t actually perfect after all. Am I right? Is that it?” Chloe’s gradually raising her voice, and she is not sure when they started falling again, but there are tears streaming down her face. 

__

For a passing moment, Chloe wonders whether she will be embarrassed about this later - her ugly crying and standing like a blubbering mess in front of an amazingly exquisite Beca Mitchell (she really did get more beautiful this year didn’t she?). 

__

Somehow Chloe is not surprised. Of course, even now, Beca gets the upper-hand. Beca has always had the upper-hand. She has always been in control of their waging war. That realization is maddening. 

__

Almost immediately, Chloe’s chest burns with the same fire she has been filled with all school year. She feels it lurching and gnawing its way up. Like an old friend, she greets the familiar surge - the signal the fire inside her is about to explode and pour out. And you know what? Just like always, it is Beca bringing the raging fire out of her. If anyone is deserving of receiving its full, constant lash, Beca is the rightful one. Before she knows it, Chloe is already yelling at the silently standing brunette, “Are you happy now, Beca? Is this what you came out to see? What you have always wanted to see? Well, fuck you, Beca! Fuck you! Fuck everyone! Fuck everything! Fuck -” 

__

Chloe does not get to finish her hate-spewing. 

__

With one fluid tug of her arms, Beca has wrapped Chloe into a secure embrace, and the anger raging through Chloe immediately dissipates. Apparently it is impossible to be mad when Beca’s arms feel _this_ safe, her body _this_ warm, and they fit _this_ right. The coziness of it all, though, does weirdly make Chloe want to cry. And sob. And shake. So she does. She lets it all out, until she just does not anymore. 

__

There is a period of comforting silence after that. Chloe relaxes into it - Beca still just quietly holding and cradling her; fingers carefully passing through Chloe’s ginger locks and stroking her head. 

__

Feeling significantly deflated after what her body has just gone through, Chloe takes a deep breath. The moment her nose is flooded with the sweet smell of vanilla, Chloe smiles against the crook of Beca’s neck and laughs - a full bellied laugh. Because that achingly familiar fragrance has spiralled her memories through the past two and a half years, and she never thought she would end up here. That they would somehow make it to this. Whatever this is. 

__

Chloe drops her head back to look at Beca. The usual stubbornness in Beca’s eyes are nowhere to be found, but Chloe does see their distinct swirling. However, the longer they gaze at each other, the more still the dark eyes become and the faint flashes Chloe has always seen in them become more apparent. Chloe is reminded of the sun trying to peek through the rain clouds on a stormy day, patiently waiting for the downpour to pass. Because now, the hazy swirling in Beca’s eyes are gone. There is light beaming through them, dazzlingly bright and inviting Chloe in. So Chloe goes. She lets her eyes fall close as she travels forward - into the blinding unknown - until she feels Beca’s remarkably soft lips pressed against her own. 

__

Something about the gentleness of it all makes Chloe release a long sigh, and her body full-on shudders. She welcomes the cooling wave that washes over her shortly after, as if every last bit of stress and tension Chloe had been containing in herself has been drawn out. 

__

_Fuck_. 

__

Beca’s lips are insanely soft. 

__

Has Chloe said that already? 

__

Because they are. 

They are so satisfyingly soft as they press and ply Chloe’s lips open and close. The way they are so careful and tender as they leisurely kiss her makes Chloe believe she could be happy just kissing these lips until forever. There is simply so much comfort Chloe has just found against these lips; they have brought her a peace she has not felt her whole lifetime (she doesn’t care she is still young, because she’s been through some shit now, ok?). Chloe doesn’t want them to stop moving against her own. But very steadily, they do. 

At the loss of contact with Beca’s lips, Chloe’s eyelids flutter open. 

Beca is still so close for Chloe’s vision to be filled with Beca’s dark ringed irises. At this distance, they are the deep entrancing blue color of a distant universe with a million stars; Chloe’s breath catches. She has never been given the opportunity to truly appreciate how wholly enchanting these eyes are until right now. In a fantastic kind of way, they are settling Chloe with a calm and making her aware of her pounding heart beat all at the same time. 

“Hey, Beale.” Beca’s warm breath tickles Chloe’s bottom lip. “You ok?” 

Chloe gently nods her head. “Better than. Completely awes,” she smiles. 

Chloe was not prepared for Beca to smile back at her. But Beca does. And it is a full-on, honest-to-God smile. Unlike anything Chloe’s ever seen on Beca’s face before. This smile crinkles the corner of her eyes; it brightens her whole face, and _holy shit_ Beca really should smile more. Her smile is a thousand times better than any other smile Chloe has ever seen in her life (and Chloe’s the type to smile at strangers and get one back, so that is a hell of a lot of sample data to compare against). 

“Welcome back, Sunshine. Do you think you’re ready to join the rest of us inside now? It's warmer there.” 

“Yeah, totes.” 

__

“Cool. Awes.” 

A shared moment of giggles and the ghost of a delicate kiss pressed against her forehead later, Chloe finds herself dancing, laughing, and truly having fun for the first time since Junior Year started. Beca right beside her. 

The rest of the year pretty much goes along those same lines. The only difference being the increasing moments of Chloe thinking about how badly she wants to kiss Beca, and her very easily getting what she wants. 

So, yeah, Junior Year - Fuck, because fuck. It was one hell of a fucking year. 

Oh and also, how the fuck does it take Beca and Chloe almost three years to discover the magic that is them? By Chloe’s calculations, that is a shameful amount of time wasted when life is too short and highschool too small. If Chloe’s third year of high school has taught her anything, it’s this - Life is fleeting, and emotions are fickle. Live while you can; love while you can. So seriously - fuck everything besides living and loving, which is exactly what she intends to do with Beca. 

\--- 

_Senior Year (AKA we about to get dirty, so abandon ship if you must)_

The hot and bright afternoon sun shines down on Chloe and her friends where they are seated in the Senior patio lunch area. Chloe shields her eyes from the intrusive sunlight, so that the familiar petite silhouette walking over to her starts detailing out to be her girlfriend. A natural smile spreads across her lips at the sight. 

“Hi, Becs.” Chloe warmly greets. Eyes gleaming. 

“Hey, Sunshine. I got you a cinnamon bun.” 

“You did?” 

Beca casually slots herself into the empty space on the bench between Chloe and Jessica. The brunette leans in and gives Chloe a kiss with a mumble of ‘Mmhm’ that tickles Chloe’s lips before she places the mentioned cinnamon bun on the lunch table. 

A snort sounds from across the table followed by a “Right. Yeah. Because she’s the cinnamon to your pale little bun huh, Beca?” 

“Fuck off, Fat Amy. You can go to hell.” Beca is crudely gesturing a lone finger at her blonde friend and rolling her eyes. 

With a giggle, Chloe pulls the offending hand down. She leans in, nibbles on Beca’s adorable little earlobe, and she is hardly shy with the darting flick of her tongue that licks the soft skin there either. “No, stay. I love it when Beca gets all moody and channels her love through anger.” Chloe looks over at Fat Amy to send her a smile, but she is surprised to find the blonde staring at her with widened eyes. 

“Oh, God.” Fat Amy murmurs. “Red Alert! Beale’s got the sex eyes. Everyone! Run! It’s not safe here!” 

The populated lunch bench breaks out in a rushing scramble. Where Chloe is seated, the table abruptly vacates of all parties aside from herself and Beca. With a glance around, Chloe finds that this includes the whole patio actually. 

All of the Barden Seniors on lunch break have deserted the area, leaving just Chloe and Beca situated at the table. The table that happens to be placed behind the thick support pillar made of bricks blocking off any view of the windows or doors from the rest of the lunchroom. 

At the recognition of their convenient placement, Chloe is not certain what her ‘sex’ eyes look like, but if they are anything akin to how she is feeling as she eyes her girlfriend now, she guesses she understands Fat Amy’s panic. Zoning in - ‘sex’ eyes most likely fully activated - Chloe attaches herself to Beca’s lips with an intense fervor. If Beca is surprised, she quickly recovers, because she easily reciprocates Chloe’s eagerness. 

With arms wrapped around Beca’s neck, and Beca’s hands cradling the back of her elbows, Chloe starts sliding her tongue across Beca’s lips. The brunette opens her mouth with a soft groan to slide her own tongue against Chloe’s, and the heat of the sun has nothing on them. Chloe makes a slight shift; Beca’s head instinctively lolls to one side (they’re so attuned to each other now). The path she wants to travel laid bare for her, Chloe smiles as she starts kissing along Beca’s jaw. With a gentle bite at the hinge just below Beca's ear, Chloe switches her path to pepper kisses down Beca's neck. 

Beca sighs when Chloe sucks - just a little - against her pulse point. “Chlo. Baby. We’re in the middle of lunch.” 

Chloe pulls back, but only so that she can catch Beca’s bottom lip between her teeth. With a gentle bite and tug as her hands land on Beca’s collarbones, pushing down, Chloe makes Beca unleash a groan that shoots adrenaline through Chloe’s veins and sends a familiar pooling warmth between her legs (if Beca was trying to get Chloe to slow down, she has already failed). 

“I guess we should hurry then.” she teasingly comments with intentional brushes of her lips against Beca’s already bruised ones. 

“Fuck, Chlo.” Heated dark blue eyes look up at her. 

Chloe giggles as she presses herself against her girlfriend. “Keep up, babe. That’s the plan.” She lays lazy kisses on Beca’s lips, glazing fingertips over collar bones, and sliding hands down Beca’s slim frame. Her hands begin squeezing, leaving bread crumbs of firm touch, as they travel down. On the way up, there is only pulling. Constant tugs until the fabric of Beca’s shirt is riding atop the swell of her breasts. 

Chloe switches her focus, dropping her head to nibble the exposed skin of Beca’s full breasts. With her nose, Chloe nudges the cup of Beca’s bra aside until she can suck the pink nipple cutely hiding from her warm and wet mouth. Her tongue drags a few sensuous laps around Beca’s nipple before she gently captures the bundle of nerves between her teeth. She smiles when she feels Beca grip her waist. Chloe gently bites down and flicks her tongue against the pebbled skin; Beca’s sharp breath and shudder makes Chloe do it again. 

“Babe.” Beca’s voice is surprisingly gruff. “Time.” 

“Someone wants it bad, huh?” Chloe teases. The dark flash in Beca’s already darkened eyes is Chloe’s only warning that she should have known better; Beca has never responded well to being taunted. All she can do is squeak when Beca - in a swift motion and surprising show of strength - lifts Chloe from the bench to sit her on its tabletop. 

Her impatience clear, Beca is already unbuttoning Chloe’s jean shorts, unzipping them, and basically undoing the miniature pants from having to _do_ anything on Chloe’s body. 

Chloe cannot help letting out a light laugh as she comfortably leans her torso back, supporting herself with arms planted behind her. Feeling cosy, she tilts her head to the side. She basks in the sun shining down as she fondly watches her girlfriend make swift work of her lacy undergarment too. 

When Beca looks back up at her, Chloe sees the brunette tense and freeze for just a second. Chloe catches the quickest spark of something in Beca's eyes. 

“God. You’re as beautiful as when I first saw you.” 

Chloe’s eyebrows raise. That’s the first she’s heard of _that_. 

Beca stands now, comfortably between Chloe’s widespread legs. Her hands land on the outer sides of Chloe’s thighs and she presses forward to kiss Chloe, dragging the redhead’s bottom lip with her as she aggressively sucks it. Then she pulls back and detaches herself. 

Chloe wants to say something about the new information she has just heard, but Beca’s head is between her thighs and “Fuck” Chloe finds herself verbally dragging out in a moan; her eyes rolling skyward. Beca is eating Chloe up like she is an ice cream cone Beca needs to finish before it melts beneath the hot and sunny day. 

And Beca’s tongue does not just lick. It swimmingly swirls. Hot and strong, it curls and folds against Chloe. It is earnestly dragging along the redhead’s wet lips like Beca wants to capture Chloe’s every single drip and any last drop. 

Then, as if deciding her tongue was not sufficient for her work, Beca’s whole mouth is pressing against Chloe’s drenched lips; Beca is literally slurping Chloe up. The sound is pervasively gushing, making the moaning, trembling mess that is Chloe Beale make sense. With her head thrown back and her fingers gripping through the bench top, rampant pleasure coursing through her, Chloe honestly believes she would be fine to die right now. 

When Beca presses her nose against the hood of Chloe’s clit and slowly drags her mouth up ensuring the full bundle of nerves lands uncovered into her perfectly shaped and waiting mouth, Chloe’s hips buck. She unknowingly pushes herself onto Beca’s readily positioned fingers, and she unashamedly moans; her pleasure verbalized in the form of her girlfriend’s name rings through the open air around them. 

One of Chloe’s hands desperately grabs at the back of Beca’s head. If it was meant to stabilize her, there is no sure footing here. Beca intensely inhales Chloe’s clit and flicks her tongue precisely and rapidly against the bundle of nerves. With her fingers, she curls and she draws and she pulls forward. She presses precisely against ridged skin. 

Within that moment Chloe is releasing an almost piercing moan at the same time her body clenches and then shudders. Her throat is dry and the back of Chloe's eyelids have become hosts to a gazillion flashing stars that continue shining even in the beaming sunlight. 

Beca leaves Chloe to ride out her high with an occasional, soft tongue stroke against her folds. Once Chloe’s intense shudders settle, she gravitates Chloe back to Earth, carefully rubbing the length of Chloe’s upper arms, up and down, and pulling the redhead’s steadily slumping form towards her. 

Chloe lolls forward and her lips find Beca’s. She sighs into their lazy kiss. “Time?” the redhead asks. 

Beca laughs and checks her phone through squinted eyes - the sun is blindingly bright today. “Ten minutes. You think you can handle one more?” 

Chloe shakes her head and presses forward against Beca’s lips. She holds the brunette’s jaw between her hands and she licks every bit of herself she finds on and around her girlfriend’s magnificent mouth. Then Chloe’s tongue slips through soft pink lips and into the dark, warm cavern where Beca’s tongue is there to languidly welcome her; the taste of Chloe being shared between them. 

Chloe’s tongue vibrates slightly from the groan that pushes from the back of Beca’s throat when Chloe strokes her tongue _just so_ against Beca’s. She disengages her tongue to sigh and smile against Beca’s lips. 

With one hand, Chloe starts a slow glide down - past chest, ribs, and a quick dance at the top of the lining of skinny ripped jeans. All the while, she nibbles on Beca’s bottom lip in-between sweet kisses. 

Not bothering to unbutton, Chloe snuggly fits her hand right into Beca’s pants. She angles herself -how she knows it to be right- and grins when she slides her hand between very hot thighs and finds insanely divine wetness. 

“Someone is melting,” Chloe hums. 

“Yeah, well, you’re so hot. I can barely breathe sometimes.” There is the slightest tremble in Beca’s voice. Chloe knows it is a result of her gliding a single, moistened finger in small circles around Beca’s clit. 

“You’re just talking sweet to me, because you want me to make you cum.” 

“Time, baby.” Beca reminds Chloe with a kiss. 

Chloe smirks and bites Beca’s lip just as she slips her hand deeper into tight spaces and smoothly plunges her now-drenched finger through the entrance of Beca’s hot heat. 

Beca groans and her head rolls forward, finding a resting place against Chloe’s shoulder. Beca’s hands frame Chloe’s thighs and she grips the tabletop. 

Chloe turns toward the head of long, brown hair leaning against her and points her tongue to lick a trail up the shell of her girlfriend’s ear, timing it precisely with the tantalizing drawing of a large circle of the lone finger inside Beca. 

Teeth bite into Chloe’s shoulder and then a muffled, “Stop teasing me.” that makes Chloe chime in brilliant laughter. She places her hand that is not blindly maneuvering around in Beca’s pants on Beca’s waist, willing her with a firm hold to stand exactly there. Then with a slight adjustment of her wrist, Chloe is able to slide an additional finger inside. She grins when her fingers are enveloped tightly by a distinct clenching accompanied with a groan. With the pad of her thumb, Chloe rubs Beca’s clit and they begin their motions - Beca canting forward and against her as Chloe rubs, curls and thrusts. 

Smiling, Chloe kisses along the open real estate of Beca’s neck, sucking and biting, never too hard to leave a mark; they have imprinted on each other in places no other eyes will ever see. 

Eventually Beca’s breathing becomes broken and haggard, and the weight she is leaning on Chloe is heavy. Turning once more to Beca’s ear, Chloe flicks her tongue against the pierced earlobe, and then her mouth is familiarizing itself with the cold taste of metal inside of it. Chloe sucks and bites at the exact moment her hand switches to firmly curl and hook Beca toward her, pressing distinctly hard against textured skin as her thumb presses down with miniscule, quick vibrations. 

Beca’s body intensely bucks forward until she’s clenching. Chloe’s fingers can barely move; only her thumb continues to rub. After Beca’s full-body shudder and heavy sigh, Chloe kisses the shell of Beca’s ear and the hand she has been using to steady her girlfriend, massages her hips. Carefully, Chloe withdraws her cramping hand from Beca. Embracing Beca in a steady hold, Chloe takes peace in feeling the way her girlfriend’s chest rises and falls against her own. 

When Beca begins to stir, Chloe turns to her. The brunette’s eyes crack open and there is an indescribable tenderness in her deep blue gaze as she looks at Chloe. They are achingly gentle and yet filled with a powerful brilliance. Before Beca opens her mouth, Chloe somehow knows what she is going to say. Even so, hearing the breathy “I love you, Chloe.” come from Beca’s mouth inflates Chloe’s heart into an unfurling bloom. 

So, certainly, Senior Year - Love. Because it is in this year - her last and final year of high school - that Chloe discovers, while under the heat of the summer sun, and on the same grounds where they first met, that she holds an uncontainable amount of love for one Beca ‘Fucking’ Mitchell. 

Oh and yeah, Beca ‘Fucking’ Mitchell loves her too. 

**Author's Note:**

> :3 
> 
> How was it?


End file.
